Atlas Grove, once a dancer with dreams of dancing under the stars, now lives petrified in the shadows of abuse. To escape her living nightmare she must keep her head down and work hard, being her senior year this is her last chance to get out. Altho...
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Blaze pulls the car into an empty bay outside a convenience store on the way back to his grandparents. We'd offered to pick up snacks on our way back from our disastrous trip to see my grandparents- not that they even deserve such title- for the film we're watching tonight... Gemmas choice meaning we might need a lot of sugar to get through it... and sugar is the best cure for all kinds of emotional distress, right?
Blaze shuts off the engine and jumps out, rounding to help me down from the car then we venture into the glow of the twenty-four-hour store. He holds my hand as we parade down the isles, me putting snacks in the basket and Blaze doubling them. We get more Oreos and Reece's than actually necessary but Blaze always finds somewhere to put them away under his fricking abs. The amount that boy eats is genuinely concerning but the amount he works out obviously evens it out. We pay at the tills and on the way out I notice see the wall of slushie machines, bright colours glitter the full length, my eyes watering.
"I'll grab them, you take the bags to the car." Blaze grins already watching me when I turn to plead. He chucks me the car keys, juggling the bags, I only just catch.
The nights air seems even crisper amongst the stary New York sky and I smile at the moon. It's so quiet around here you can still hear the whine from the centre of the city, the dark pinpoints of the skyscrapers against the polluted clouds and navy backdrop. I pull the keys from my palm ready to unlock the trunk but stop abruptly. The bags swing around my legs, a figure paces in front of the car. Our car, which I have to put our groceries in. His head is bowed, a black hood covering all noticeable features but he's tall and built.
I look back to the store unsure what to do, I don't see Blaze but he can't be that far behind. Maybe he's waiting for someone? There were other people in the store, maybe he's just waiting?
If I act like it's our car he'll probably move. Stop being so fricking paranoid, it's just a man. I pick up the pace and straighten my shoulders, when the man realises I'm walking towards the car he stops and stares at me. I'm now able to see what he's wearing.
All black.
Black combat boots. Black cargo trousers. Black hoodie and a black scarf tied around his mouth. Just a man?His face, still shielded by the hood and now covered by the scarf, is too shadowed to see but he has something flicking between his fingers. He doesn't move just stares at me.
"Hello... sorry... can I uh, help you?" I trying to keep my voice calm. I move the keys between my knuckles carefully.
"Where is he?" His voice is gruff and merciless.
"Sorry-" I squeak being cut off by his hands on me, pushing me back against the car. I didn't even see him launch towards me and drag me back. One hand tightens on my head pushing it against the car window, the other clamped on my waist, fingers painfully digging into my flesh. Panic courses through me- not just a man.
